Metropolitan Cathedral, San Salvador

"I soon discovered that if a wayfaring stranger wishes to eavesdrop on a local population, the places for him to slip and hold his peace are bars and churches." - John Steinbeck: Travels with Charley.

Being that it was one o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon, I chose church. I was a self-proclaimed tourist, and wanted this moment to be so, therefore, remembering a church I'd read about, buried my face into a map, and soon found myself lost on streets I've walked a hundred times. I managed to shuffle past a drunk who knew some English, rounding sixth avenida, to find my destination. I exchanged a few phrases with a younger fellow, as he padlocked a chain around the iron entry way, saying it would be open for viewing at two in the afternoon. Well it wasn't two in the afternoon and I was hungry, so I figured I'd nose into my map again and choose a restaurant I hadn't been intentional enough yet to find down town.

(It's important that downtown, be understand in its literal translation. San Salvador is built onto the lower slopes of a volcano, and much of its economic class system is structured accordingly, the richer areas with their U.S. Embassy, escalators, paper receipts, and the whole bit, positioned in the higher west end, while the concentrated poorer areas work their way east to the lower elevations of the landscape, downtown; officially named Mercado Central, or locally, Centro).

I walked two blocks west, as I had been on the outskirts of Centro, and found myself in the crossing the road just beside the Metropolitan Cathedral, named for an Archbishop, Oscar Romero, that spoke out avidly against killing, even if militarily, and therefore the government. A compelling and moving individual who might not have become so iconic, had he not been assassinated at the alter of a private chapel, after finishing a sermon 1980. Thus, along with the murder of a thousand civilians at his funeral, El Salvador began down a path of Civil War that would take 70,000 lives.

The road marks the east end of a square that rests in front of one of the largest church in San Salvador; seat of the San Salvador Archbishop, and home of the tomb of Monsenur Romero.

I walked up the stone stairs, and tiptoed my way past the twenty person plus line for confession, finding the farthest left and back pew. I didn't stand when everyone stood, nor did I kneel at the appointed time, but considered the implication, that the gospel was, in fact, still relevant to many, at one:thirty post meridian on a Tuesday.

I was grateful to the family in the last center aisle, whose oldest son was far too occupied with what took place behind his behind pew, to allow anyone to notice me withdraw my camera from its blue beanie home.

First photo, not mine; complements to whomever, but I will replace soon. This is my favorite sight in the morning, walking north on Cuscatlan.